Memories Best Forgotten
by Smokestep
Summary: We were watching this movie, this scene came up, and this idea just came to me. In Marlin's POV. Hope you enjoy if you read it. It's definitely better than this excuse of a summary is making it seem. Rated T for supposed character death.


**Memories Best Forgotten**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any characters in this story.

**Smokestep: **Well, this is random, but it came to me when our class was watching 'Finding Nemo' in biology. We weren't able to finish the movie, but we stopped a little bit after Marlin thought Nemo was dead.

Enjoy!

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"Nemo . . ."

_No . . . no, this can't be true._

And yet, the sight in front of him spoke differently: a small, orange and white fish, with a bad fin. Flipped over, in a plastic bag, and not moving.

And out of all the clownfish in the sea, it had to be him. Had to be Nemo, his son. Unwanted images of Coral fighting to protect their children, going against that barracuda flashed in his mind. Her, and all their eggs gone, in one moment of a day that had been so perfect before. Only one egg had been saved. Nemo. And Marlin had said himself that nothing would ever happen to him. Not as long as he'd let it. But this time, there had been absolutely nothing he could do.

He was always so protective, and maybe if he hadn't been so angry at Nemo, maybe . . . maybe none of this would've happened.

As he stared, speechless, at Nemo's motionless body, one that had always been so full of energy, he vaguely felt Dory surface up beside him. She must have followed his gaze, because she gasped a moment later. That was a gasp made purely out of horror.

She may have short-term memory loss, but she wasn't stupid. She probably knew exactly who that was.

Next thing he knew, he fell back into the Nigel's mouth, but not before screaming, "Nemo!"

Everything after that was a blur to him. He felt numb. That was the only way to explain it. He only remotely felt a familiar sadness tugging at his heart, one that spoke of loss and pain. Why Nemo? Why? Why did everyone he cares about die?

Then he remembered suddenly what Dory had once said to him when he suggested continuing on his own: "You mean you don't like me?"

His response had been, "No, of course I like you. It's because I like you I don't want to be with you. It's a complicated emotion." Marlin silently sighed. If she hadn't even come with him this far, he wouldn't have even made this far. But then again, did he even want to make it here? He was too late. It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been here. It just would've saved him from reawakening old memories that are better left forgotten . . .

A few moments later, that felt like years to the clownfish lost in his thoughts, he dimly felt himself slipping into the familiar water of the ocean, but it held no comfort for him. Just pain, as he knew Nemo would've loved going on the journey he and Dory had taken.

As the beak around him was raised out of the water, Dory surfaced. Marlin reluctantly followed suit.

A moment later, his gaze met with the Nigel's. His held sympathy, and even sadness. Marlin still didn't know how well the pelican had actually known his son. But it was clear that Nigel felt some sort of remorse. As for Marlin, his eyes said everything. He couldn't speak, his throat too choked up for words. And frankly, he didn't want to speak. What was there to talk about?

"I am so sorry," Nigel said, though everyone knew it wasn't his fault. His words barely registered in Marlin's mind, overlapped with the images of Nemo's still body. "Truly I am." With that, the pelican spread his wings and took off, slowly flying away from the two fish, glancing back once. Marlin was sure his gaze was focused on him. This time, it was one of pity.

He sighed, diving back into the ocean, slightly calmed by the feel of the water surrounding his body. It gave him life, unlike the cruel air above to which he had learned the awful truth of his son.

He had been so cheered minutes ago, knowing he was so close to Nemo. He had come so far, overcoming sharks, jellyfish, and traveling so far. His reward had not been worth the swim. He should've just stayed home. Be reassured with the fact that Nemo was, indeed, still alive. So what if it was a lie. It didn't matter. After all, he just wished this was a lie, or a nightmare, and that the fish he had seen had not really been Nemo. If only . . .

Oh well, he can't change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. No one can. But now what?

What he had imagined in the early stages of his and Dory's expedition was him reuniting with his son, and then with them going back to the anemone. He didn't want to go back now. Too many memories had been implanted there. But where else could he go?

"Hey-" Dory? He had not felt her coming up right beside him, so it came as quite a surprise when her voice reached his auditory system. _Well, might as well get this out while I can._

"Dory," he said quietly, his voice strained with barely controlled grief. How he kept his voice so steady, he didn't know. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't even have made it here. So thank you," he finished, looking at her with a gaze full of gratitude and misery. He then started waving his tail fan back and forth, swimming away from his friend and Sydney once and for all, without waving his fin in farewell, saying goodbye, or even glancing back once.

"Hey-ey, wa-wa-wait." However, Dory stopped him before he got too far, swimming to a rapid stop in front of him, blocking his way . "Where are you going?" she asked in an innocently curious voice, still saddened by what transpired before. He sighed. Somehow, he had a feeling she wouldn't like what he would say next.

"It's over, Dory. We were too late . . . Nemo's gone." This next part is what she wouldn't like. "I'm going home now." With that, he swam past her, his fin barely touching her blue skin. At once she protested.

"No, no you can't . . . " He didn't stop swimming. "St-stop!" she exclaimed in a desperate tone. At this simple command, he obliged, stopping, just as she wanted. She took this as a signal that he was listening and continued. "Please don't go away? Please?" The desperation in her voice grew, and her despondency was almost tangible as she resumed. "No one's ever stuck with me this long before."

Marlin still didn't move, eyes half-closed, showing no sign that he had heard. But he did, loud and clear, and felt a tinge of sympathy swell in his heart. No one stuck with her because of something that wasn't even her fault. He truly felt bad for her, even if he didn't show it with so much as a glance. He simply remained where he stayed, his gaze fixed on the empty ocean.

"And if you leave . . ." she said, voice rising in anxiety. "If you leave, I just-I just remember things better with you." When he said nothing, she added, "Look, I do." She closed her eyes, and attempted to recite the address that had helped them find his son. "P. Sherman, forty-two . . ." She had forgotten, that much can be said. "Forty-two . . ." And yet, still didn't give up on trying to get him to stay. He heard a huff of frustration come from her direction before she persisted this plead.

"I remember it, I do. It's there, I know it is, because when I look at you, I can feel it." Marlin wasn't so sure of that, but he didn't object. In addition to not wanting to speak came his feeling of panic when she had told him to trust her so many times. When he did, everything had turned out okay. So he just had to trust her now. "And-and I look at you, and I . . . and I'm home," she said sadly and wistfully, as if she never had a true home. Maybe she didn't, but he certainly wasn't the answer. Everyone close to him dies.

"Please . . . " she whispered, practically begging. Her next words sounded as labored as his were when he had spoken. "I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget."

There was only one problem: he wanted to. He didn't want this hanging over his head, filling his life with guilt, buried somewhere in his heart. He didn't want to deal with these memories, and he didn't think he could. "I'm sorry, Dory. But I . . . do."

As he swam away, he could feel Dory's miserable gaze following him, but this was simply something he couldn't do for her. Besides, it may be better if she just forgot him as well.

_I'm sorry, Dory, I really am. But I don't want to remember this. For me, and maybe you, it's just better if we just forget this whole thing ever happened. I just wish I could forget, and maybe escape, my memories._

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**Smokestep: **Again, very random, but I just had to do it. Besides, it will make it seem as if I have more variety in my stories. But this will probably be my only story for 'Finding Nemo', unless I can think of another idea. But, still, I hope you enjoyed, and if you have any advice or criticism for me, you know where to click.

See you guys later!


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